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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361724">honey tongue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/veorlian/pseuds/veorlian'>veorlian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Romance, plus bonus hawke twins au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/veorlian/pseuds/veorlian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Hawke/Varric Tethras</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hightown Funk 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>honey tongue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astria/gifts">Astria</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets. </p>
<p>Well. More riots than usual, at least.</p>
<p>Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.</p>
<p>And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales. </p>
<p>He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.</p>
<p>“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”</p>
<p>“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them. </p>
<p>“It was <em>not,”</em> Marian tossed back.</p>
<p>“Was <em>too."</em></p>
<p>Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.</p>
<p>“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”</p>
<p>“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.</p>
<p>“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.</p>
<p>“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.</p>
<p>“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”</p>
<p>“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.</p>
<p>“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively. </p>
<p>“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.</p>
<p>“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.</p>
<p>“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.</p>
<p>“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.</p>
<p>“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.</p>
<p>“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.</p>
<p>She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.</p>
<p>“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.</p>
<p>“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.</p>
<p>“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”</p>
<p>“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”</p>
<p>“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”</p>
<p>“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.</p>
<p>“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.</p>
<p>“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.</p>
<p>“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”</p>
<p>Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. <em>What the hell…?</em></p>
<p>“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.</p>
<p>“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”</p>
<p>“Hey—” Carver began.</p>
<p>The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.</p>
<p>
  <em>Plus, you’re not as good-looking.</em>
</p>
<p>Did Varric think she was good-looking?</p>
<p>Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually <em>matter</em> to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.</p>
<p><br/>Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.</p>
<p>It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. </p>
<p>And so.</p>
<p>“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.</p>
<p>“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.</p>
<p>“You’re my favourite.”</p>
<p>“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.</p>
<p>She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.</p>
<p>After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.</p>
<p>And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that.<br/>…<br/>Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.</p>
<p>He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along. </p>
<p>“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.</p>
<p>It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine. </p>
<p>Until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).</p>
<p>She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.</p>
<p>“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.</p>
<p>“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.</p>
<p>“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.</p>
<p>“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.</p>
<p>“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.</p>
<p>“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.</p>
<p>“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.</p>
<p>“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. <em>What the hell?</em></p>
<p>The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.</p>
<p>He missed it, when it wasn’t there.</p>
<p>He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.</p>
<p>It was beautiful. She was beautiful.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.</p>
<p><em>Shit.</em><br/>…<br/>The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.</p>
<p>She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.</p>
<p>“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.</p>
<p>“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”</p>
<p>A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.</p>
<p>“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.</p>
<p>“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Marian, I—” <em>Record scratch, freeze frame.</em> Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.</p>
<p>“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.</p>
<p>“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.</p>
<p>“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”</p>
<p>His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.</p>
<p>His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.</p>
<p>She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.</p>
<p>“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.</p>
<p>“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.</p>
<p>She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.</p>
<p>“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.</p>
<p>“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.</p>
<p>“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.</p>
<p>“I have as well,” she said at last.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”</p>
<p>“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”</p>
<p>“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.</p>
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